In my many years of spanking blogging, I have heard of an enormous number of seductive dodges used to get someone to bare their bottom for a spanking. But to play on a writer’s professionalism so that she can write about a birching properly? It’s low, but it would totally work!

On their next meeting he showed her his painting of a seventeenth-century maid, forced to raise her skirts for a birching.

“You were great on the painter’s motivation, but you didn’t describe the actual birch very well, Susie,” he said.

Susie sucked in her breath. “The fantasy artist I interviewed was still painting the birch into his picture when I called. I’ve… I’ve never actually seen one up close.”

“Really? Then your education is sorely lacking. We can soon remedy that,” Jon said in a light clear tone. She looked at his slightly pursed lips. They were ironic, faintly mocking. But his pupils were dilated with desire.

Leaving her by the easel, he walked over to the desk and pulled something from a lower drawer. Susie felt the blood rush to her sex lips, felt her clitoris shudder with pleasure and sudden need. A birch! He was bringing over a birch! A birch that could be used on a recalcitrant arse the way that it had been used on the girl in the picture. A birch to make her beg and make her wet and make her want to come.

“The artist said that a real girl would cry out from the first stroke,” Susie said. “Do you think that’s realistic?”

“We could put it to the test,” Jon replied.

Susie half shook her head.

“I can’t see how…”

“I think you owe it to your writing. I mean, if you were shy I could just birch you over your pants.”

“I suppose . . . I suppose it would be a form of investigative journalism,” she murmured hesitantly, hearing the lie but ignoring it.

“Very investigative,” echoed Jon, leading her over to the desk and lifting her skirts to expose her brief-clad arse.